


Return to the Wilds

by filmfanatic82



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filmfanatic82/pseuds/filmfanatic82
Summary: Set three years after their escape from the bunker, the unsinkable eight must return to the one place that they swore they would never step foot in again in order to save one of their own... The Island.
Relationships: Dot Campbell & Fatin Jadmani, Dot Campbell & Shelby Goodkind, Fatin Jadmani/Leah Rilke, Martha Blackburn & Toni Shalifoe, Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 59
Kudos: 224





	1. Prologue: The Call

It starts with a missed call from an unknown number.

Toni doesn’t even notice it until four hours later when she clocks out of her double shift at the local coffee shop and finally has a free moment to check her phone. 

It’s odd.

Nah.

Odd’s not the right word for it.

It’s eerie. 

Like the kind of eeriness that comes before a storm rolls in and decimates everything in sight.

And for a fleeting moment, Toni considers calling the number back. 

If only to confirm that the missed call wasn’t from her.

But deep down, she knows that it would be a waste of time. That the voice on the other end of the line wouldn’t possess that thick Texan twang that has come to haunt her dreams.

It’s never her.

It hasn’t been ever since that infamous night almost three years ago when, after imploding upon one another in a cacophony of harsh insults and unfounded accusations, Toni called her bluff and walked out the door. 

Three years and not a single text nor phone call… Even by mistake.

There has been nothing at all but silence.

Nah. 

It’s not Shelby. 

It can’t be… 

Toni gives the phone number a second glance and notices that it’s a foreign country code. 

“+51,” Toni says to herself as she slips into the cab of her beat-up Ford pick-up truck and turns the keys over. The car rumbles to life beneath her with a slight kick, and she mutters a quick thank you to whatever god is out there that she doesn’t have to walk the five miles from downtown Portland back to her apartment like she’s had to do one too many time already in the past month. 

But just as Toni is about to throw the truck into reverse, her phone rings again. Her eyes shoot downward to where it lies on the seat bench, and she instantly catches sight of the screen. 

It’s the same exact number.

“Shit,” Toni exhales. She pops the truck back into park and, without another moment’s hesitation, snatches up her phone and clicks the answer button. 

“Hello?”

“Toni?!” 

The painfully familiar voice slices straight through Toni like a white-hot blade, cutting her right down to the bone. Her breath catches in her chest as her mind short circuits. 

This isn’t real. 

It can’t be…

She’s having yet another one of her vivid night terrors again. The ones that are so terrifyingly realistic that she can’t tell that she’s dreaming until it’s too late. 

That’s it. 

It has to be it…

“Toni? ...Toni? Is that you??”

“Marty?” The name tumbles out of Toni’s mouth before her brain has a chance to register what is transpiring.

“Yes! It’s me. Toni, I don’t…,” Marty’s voice trails off in a shaky breath of air. “I don’t know what’s going on. One minute we were on the island and the next… The next I woke up in this strange concrete looking bunker.”

It’s Martha.

But how?

Gretchen had informed them shortly after arriving at the bunker that Martha had passed away. Something to do with the head injury she had sustained during those final few days. 

A subdural hematoma. That had been the clinical cause of death. Toni remembers the term because for a while it was all Leah could fixate on, repeating the words over and over again until they lost any and all meaning.

Toni, though, never fully could accept it. Even after they all had returned home and the Blackburns had laid Martha to rest back on the reservation in Minnesota, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it to be the truth. There was always the lingering hint of doubt in the back of Toni’s mind that maybe-- just maybe-- Martha’s supposed death was nothing more than yet another manufactured lie by Gretchen and her pack of sadistic minions. That maybe Martha was deed still out there somewhere alive and well. 

Of course, Toni never dared to share these doubts with any of the others. Not in fear that they wouldn’t believe her, but what good would it do? They had made a pack to help one another move on from the horrors they had endured during their time on that godforsaken island. 

No matter what…

Bringing up her doubts would only ultimately do more harm. Deep down, she knows it. They’ve all worked so hard to rebuild some semblance of independent lives in the last three years. 

Why choose to open Pandora’s box when there has never been a single scrap of evidence to contradict the accepted belief that Martha did indeed die on that island?

“Marty? Where are you now?” Toni asks as she attempts to hide the growing lump of emotions swelling up in the back of her throat.

“I… I don’t know… I’m not 100% sure. I ran out of this door I found and… And suddenly I was in a jungle… I think… I think I’m still on the island, maybe?”

The words sucker punch Toni straight in the gut, and she once again struggles to catch her breath.

Martha is on the island…

“Toni… Toni, I…” Martha’s voice crackles as the connection cuts in and out.

“Marty? Marty, hang on… Okay? Just stay put, and I’ll come and get you. I just need you to tell me exactly where--”

A blood-curling scream cuts through Toni’s words bringing her to a sudden and heart-wrenching halt. 

“Marty!!” 

But it's too late. The call drops, and Toni is left staring at the screen in stunned silence. A moment passes and then--

“Shit,” Toni says as she snaps back to life and hits the redial button. 

Nothing.

She tries again… 

And again… 

And again…

Still nothing. 

Martha has disappeared once again into the black abyss of her nightmarish memories. 

“Fuck!” Toni slams her hand against the steering wheel in a burst of pure frustration mixed with tinges of anger. She exhales a breath of air that up until this very moment she didn’t realize she had been holding on to and then runs her hands over her ponytail. 

What to do… 

Toni looks back over at her phone for a moment, and then, with a sudden flash of determination within her rich chocolate brown eyes, she snatches it back up and dials.

“Hey… You’ve got a moment?” Toni asks the voice on the other end of the phone, trying her best to mask her lingering tremble. “Yeah… I’m fine… I swear… I’m just calling cause… Cause I need to cash in that favor.”


	2. Pandora's Box (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Read the sign on the door. It’s Tuesday. We’re not open until--” 
> 
> “I don’t need a sign, Dottie. I know your hours of operation by heart.”
> 
> The slight twang on the word heart brings an instant smile to Dot’s face. She turns around, fully expecting to see Blondie alone but is taken back by the sight of Rachel standing beside her.  
> \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Rachel shows up unexpectedly in LA to deliver some news about Toni's whereabouts.

“See y’all next week! And don’t forget to sign-up for Movie Night on the 25th. We’re gonna be watching one of my favorites... But I’m a Cheerleader.” Shelby flashes one of her trademark pageant smile accompanied by an extra friendly wave as sounds of chairs scraping and shoes shuffling against the tile floor fill the rec room. 

Every Tuesday for the past two years now, it’s been the same routine. Classes at Pepperdine University until midday. Then, head over to the Malibu pier for a late lunch and maybe a quick stroll on the beach if time permitted. And finally, Shelby would make her way to Celebration Baptist Church for her part-time job as their resident LGBTQ+ youth minister. 

At first, Shelby had politely declined when Pastor Mike had offered her the position. She was barely managing to keep up with her robust course load as a double major in both Religious studies and Theater. 

How the heck would she be able to juggle both properly?

Plus, there was the whole other issue surrounding her own sexuality and how comfortable she was with openly discussing it.

How could she provide guidance to others on it when she could barely utter the words “I’m queer” out loud?

But Pastor Mike persisted and finally wore Shelby down until she had no other choice but to say yes. It’s as if he realized something about her that she didn’t yet quite see in herself.

God’s intended purpose for her.

That LBGTQ+ youth group quickly became Shelby’s salvation in disguise. Through those weekly interactions, she found herself growing more and more comfortable within her own queer identity. And once unfathomable things like kissing a girl in public or openly wearing rainbow paraphernalia suddenly became no big deal.

Shelby had even managed to come to peace with the undeniable fact that her parents and the church teachings that she had been indoctrinated with since birth had been nothing more than lies bred out of pure fear and hatred. God made her in his image, queerness and all, which meant she deserved his love just like everyone else.

Of course, though, even with this revelation, it hadn’t been all sunshine and rainbows for Shelby. There had been the enviable fallout and then full-on disownment from her entire family, which had been beyond devastating. So devastating that Shelby spent a good two weeks after the final conversation locked away in her dorm room, barely able to motivate herself to get out of bed. If it hadn’t been for Dottie and her blunt “tough love” style of care, she would’ve never found the will to leave that room and continue on with her life. But that was the beauty of their friendship. They were always there for one another no matter how difficult nor messy the situation. 

That had been the pact they had made-- all of them had made-- with one another when they had finally escaped that living nightmare and returned to civilization. That they would be there. No questions nor hesitation. 

But as time passed by and their lives diverged down different paths, that pact fell into the background for some. And the closeness that they once shared faded away from the foreground of their daily lives. 

Not to anyone’s fault. But keeping up those relationships at a distance was harder than any of them had ever anticipated. 

And of course, there was the Toni-sized elephant in the room whenever Shelby talked to any one of the other girls. They each would tiptoe around the topic in their own unique ways, careful to keep any information about the girl that had once been Shelby’s forever out of the conversation. But stray tidbits would always pop back up. And Shelby didn’t fault them whenever they would slip and mention Toni’s name. 

How could they avoid talking about one of their own? 

Dottie, though, had been the only one who never tiptoed nor hid whenever she had been in contact with Toni. She would always rip the bandaid off right away in her trademark matter of fact manner as if she was reporting on last week’s weather. Shelby never pried whenever Dottie would mention what Toni was up to… But lord knows she more than wanted to. 

Shelby secretly craved for any piece of information she could get on Toni and how she was surviving. 

Was she alright?

Where was she living?

Did she have anyone new in her life?

But Shelby knew that asking these questions would only once again open Pandora’s box and deep down inside, no matter how much she had grown over the last few years, was still not 100% sure that she was worthy of Toni’s forgiveness… Or if Toni would be willing to give her a second chance.

“Shelby?” 

The warm familiarity of the voice snaps Shelby back into the moment. She glances over towards the rec room doors and to her surprise, finds the one and only Rachel Reid lingering in the doorway. 

“Rachel!” Shelby doesn’t wait for the girl to respond, before bounding across the room and scooping her up into a hug. Rachel stiffens for a moment, not yet fully reaccustomed to Shelby’s disregard for personal boundaries, before she loosens up and returns the embrace. 

“Hey,” Rachel replies which only causes Shelby to further tighten her grip. “Good to see you too.” 

After an elongated moment or two, Shelby finally steps back out of their hug and takes a good look at Rachel. Although it has only been a few months since they last saw one another, Rachel appears different. Her baseline intensity, which has become almost endearing to Shelby has been replaced with something else. There’s a pedicular heaviness to her that Shelby quite can’t put her finger on. It’s as if she’s burdened with an invisible weight of something that needs to be delivered. 

“What are you…” Shelby trails off as she catches sight of the hint of anxiousness buried within Rachel’s eyes. It’s the look of bad news yet to come. 

“Toni’s missing.”

**____________________**

“Fuck.” Dot unceremoniously drops the last of the kegs down with a loud thud and then leans back on the bar to catch her breath. Hauling kegs from the backroom to the bar is not in her usual job description but then again, what is these days…

When Dot first had taken the job two years ago at a hole-in-the-wall dive bar in Venice called The Basement, it was only meant to be for a few weeks tops. A temporarily bartending gig in order to help cover the portion of the monthly expenses that Fatin had been once paying. 

But a few weeks turned into a few months… And then a whole year… And before Dot knew it, she couldn’t imagine doing anything else with her life. 

Sure, Dot was still technically underage and shouldn’t even be allowed to set foot in a bar, let alone bartend at one, but lucky enough for her, the owner Frank had been an old motorcycle buddy of her dad’s and had a soft spot for the girl. Her age didn’t matter to him nor the rest of the regular patrons at The Basement. 

But even though most chose to turn a blind-eye, Dot still carried a fake id with her at all times. Just in case there ever was a suspicion raised about her age. And thank god she’s been easily able to-- even on the worst of days-- pass for someone in the mid 20s for that last two years now.

Dot also ended up getting one made for Shelby as well. Although it was originally met with some protest given the illegal nature of the id itself, she finally managed to strongarm Blondie into accepting it by saying it would allow them to spend more time with one another. Of course, that did the trick and before Dot knew it the ex-pageant queen Texan turned queer as hell Cali girl became a regular at The Basement. 

Shelby would stop by every Thursday and Saturday nights, and some Sundays too, and sit at the end of the bar keeping Dot company as she tended to the ever-revolving door of eclectic patrons. She rarely skipped out, so much so, that Dot could count the times that Shelby hadn’t been there on a single hand. 

Blondie, as Dot had grown accustomed to calling her, was the most dependable person in all of existence… And for that alone, Dot would be eternally grateful. 

Funny, how some things in life turn out. 

If someone would’ve told Dot back when she was in high school-- before that fateful trip-- that Shelby Goodkind would wind up becoming her best friend, she would’ve never believed them. Not in a million and one years would she have ever envisioned a future where she and Shelby were both living in Southern California and spending virtually every holiday with one another.

A future where Shelby was the closest thing to family-- real family-- that Dot has in the world.

DING.

The sound of the ancient door chimes cause Dot to let out a preemptive sigh in frustration. She closes her eyes and massages the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. 

She’s not in the mood to deal with yet another rogue drunk… Not today. 

“Read the sign on the door. It’s Tuesday. We’re not open until--” 

“I don’t need a sign, Dottie. I know your hours of operation by heart.”

The slight twang on the word heart brings an instant smile to Dot’s face. She turns around, fully expecting to see Blondie alone but is taken back by the sight of Rachel standing beside her. 

“Whoa… Reid, what’re you doing here? Did someone die?” Shelby’s face immediately drops making Dot regret her choice of words. “Shit… Someone didn’t die, did they?”

“No…” Rachel responds as she and Shelby make their way over to the bar. “But Toni’s missing.”

“Huh?” Dot ping-pongs between Rachel and Shelby searching their faces for any hint of additional information. “What’d you mean missing? I just talked to her a few weeks ago.”

“How many weeks?”

“I dunno. Maybe four or five weeks? It was right after St. Patrick’s day cause I was cleaning up fucking green puke off of the pool table when she called.” 

“Dottie, St. Patrick’s day was over two months ago,” Shelby pipes up. 

“Okay, so it was more like two months then. You know I’m shit with judging how long ago things were.” 

“So you didn’t hear from Toni since then?” Rachel asks.

“No. Not at all.” Dot automatically goes into autopilot and begins to make Shelby her usual Tequila Sunrise. 

“Oh no, I don’t need a--”

“You two just waltzed in here and dropped a motherfuckin’ bomb. That calls a drink,” Dot replies cutting Shelby off. She then grabs herself a PBR and cracks it open. “Pick your poison, Reid.” 

“Grey Goose and soda water.” 

“Good choice.” Dot plops the drinks down in front of Shelby and Rachel but not before unceremoniously clinking them together for good measure. She takes an extra long swig off of her beer and then caps it off by wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “So how do you even know Toni’s gone missing? She’s gone off the grid before. Remember that stretch of time after she and Blondie broke up? No one could track her down for months.”

Dot catches Shelby’s slight cringe at these words but gives it little to no actual attention. It’s how they operate. No sugar coating nor ignoring the hard shit that comes with life between the two of them. It’s honesty and tough love all around. 

“It’s different this time. Toni and I have a standing check-in with each other. First of every month at 5pm. And she’s never missed it. Not once…” Rachel says in between sips of her drink. 

“Until now?” Shelby asks and Rachel nods. 

“I tried calling her a few times since but it always goes straight to voicemail. Even her boss at that coffee shop where she works hasn’t seen her in three weeks.”

“Well shit,” Dot exhales with a heavy breath of air. “What about the rest of us? Anyone else heard from her?”

Rachel shakes her head much to the dismay of both Shelby and Dot. “No. I called Leah and she told me that both she and Fatin haven’t heard from Toni since last December when she went to visit them.” 

Now it’s Dot’s turn to flinch. It’s ever so slight but she knows that Shelby has caught it nonetheless. Blondie has hawkeyes when it comes to reading her micro reactions… Especially when it comes to anything remotely related to Fatin. 

“What about Nora? I know she’s still a bit skittish around us all but maybe she’s heard something? Did you try…” But something buried deep within Rachel’s eyes causes Shelby to trail off. And Dot catches it too. 

There’s more to it. Otherwise, Rachel wouldn’t have made the trek all the way down from Stanford to deliver this news in person. 

Rachel doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she downs the rest of her drink in one massive gulp and then subconsciously ghosts over her residual limb with her remaining hand as if to signal what’s to come. 

A moment passes…

And another…

And then--

“What else?” Dot asks unable to withstand the silence any longer.

“I did call Nora and asked her to do some digging on Toni’s whereabouts… And at first, she couldn’t seem to find anything. It was as if Toni just disappeared into thin air or something. No texts. No calls. Nothing on social media… But then a few days ago Nora called me back and said that she finally managed to find something. Nothing 100% for sure but it looks like Toni’s last known whereabouts was in Mancora, Peru.” 

“Isn’t that the town near…” Shelby asks but her words fade out and are replaced with a look of confusion mixed with pure dread. Dot nods in confirmation and then chugs the rest of her beer. 

“Fuck.” Dot grabs another PBR and without another moment’s hesitation, cracks it open. 

“Yeah. That’s why I’m here… It looks like Toni went back to the island.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments below. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	3. Chapter 2: Pandora's Box (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fatin’s mere presence is more potent and powerful than any of the drugs that Leah’s doctor has prescribed throughout the years.
> 
> Fatin is what ground her to reality.
> 
> Always has been… Ever since that first moment back on the beach after Leah had attempted to drown herself. Fatin had been the one to pull her back out of the depths of the death spiral.
> 
> “Babe…” Leah bites back a moan as she can’t help but lean into Fatin’s nails. “What are you doing?”
> 
> “Taking my post-concert season gel tips for a test drive,” Fatin replies, and Leah doesn’t have to open her eyes to know that her girlfriend is once again safely back by her side in the seat next to her. “So what’s the verdict? Good? I told the girl not to go as long this time.”  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> The unsinkable seven reunite in LA and gets a surprise update on Toni's whereabouts.

DING.

The ominous red seatbelt sign flashes on, and Leah’s hands once again grip the armrests for dear life. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Uh, folks… This is your captain here. We’re looking at another ten to fifteen minutes max of this choppiness, and then it should be smooth sailing for the rest of our flight.” 

“Bullshit,” Leah mutters under her breath. “You said ten minutes a half hour ago.” 

Leah shuts her eyes and does her best to focus on her breathing. Inhale through her nose for four… Hold for eight… and then exhale for four, just like her therapist taught her to do to combat her crippling anxiety attacks. 

An enviable lingering side effect thanks in part to being Gretchen’s unwilling guinea pigs and having to struggle day in and day out for weeks on end for their mere survival. 

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

A trio of harsh jolts slams against the plane’s cabin, causing Leah’s muscles to tense even further. She grits her teeth, closes her eyes, and desperately tries not to think about all the horrific scenarios that could possibly occur next. 

This isn’t the first time she’s flown since their stint on the island. 

No.

There have been a handful of previous flights, mainly back home to the Bay Area for the regular holiday visits and then an impromptu one six months ago to Turks and Caicos as a surprise anniversary gift.

This flight, though, is different.

And Leah knows it.

It’s a return.

A return to the unspoken elephants in the room and the demons that have been sequestered to under their beds. 

To every last thing, they’ve been conveniently dancing around for the previous three years.

The choppiness intensifies, and just when Leah feels like she can’t hold back the onset of a panic attack any second longer—

Nails.

Fatin’s nails, to be exact.

They scratch intricate circles on the back of Leah’s scalp, instantly melting away all traces of anxiety and panic within her body.

It’s incredible how Fatin has a sixth sense when it comes to reading her invisible cues and knowing exactly what actions will counteract them. And it’s always rooted in physical contact.

A touch.

A kiss.

An embrace.

Fatin’s mere presence is more potent and powerful than any of the drugs that Leah’s doctor has prescribed throughout the years.

Fatin is what ground her to reality.

Always has been… Ever since that first moment back on the beach after Leah had attempted to drown herself. Fatin had been the one to pull her back out of the depths of the death spiral.

“Babe…” Leah bites back a moan as she can’t help but lean into Fatin’s nails. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my post-concert season gel tips for a test drive,” Fatin replies, and Leah doesn’t have to open her eyes to know that her girlfriend is once again safely back by her side in the seat next to her. “So what’s the verdict? Good? I told the girl not to go as long this time.”

Leah can’t help but smile at this comment. Nails-- at least the professionally done kind-- were a rare luxury for her girlfriend. With the non-stop practice and performance demands of Julliard, there is only a small window of months where Fatin could indulge in wearing them without risking any interference. 

And although at first, they weren’t Leah’s favorite of Fatin’s must-have accessories, they’ve grown on her… Like everything else that makes Fatin uniquely Fatin. 

“How am I supposed to judge the length when they’re buried in my hair?” Before even the last words leave Leah’s lips, Fatin’s fingers detangle themselves from Leah’s chocolate brown locks and start to ghost their way down the silhouette of Leah’s body. She bites back another uncontrollable moan as Fatin’s fingers dance dangerously close to the waistband of her jeans. “Fatin…”

“What? I’m taking these bad boys for a test drive…” Fatin whispers into Leah’s ear, and Leah swears she can hear Fatin’s trademark devilish smirk emerge. “A  **full** test drive.” 

Leah’s pops open her eyes as a fresh wave of anxiety washes over her. She glances over at Fatin, who’s already reaching with her free hand for a nearby blanket. 

Fuck.

“Fatin…” Leah says again. This time with a heightening sense of concern. “We’re on a plane.”

“So? Look around. It’s first class. No one could give two shits about what-- or who-- we’re doing. Plus…” Fatin drapes the blanket across Leah’s lap, fully covering them from armrest to armrest. “We can be discrete.”

“Discrete?” Leah snorts. “Babe, you don’t know the meaning of the word.” 

“Like fuck I don’t…” Fatin’s fingers dip down below Leah’s waistband but stop short of making actual contact with Leah’s skin. 

THUD.

Leah starts to tense again, but before her muscles can even react, Fatin’s fingers are there upon her skin, working their magic. She shuts her eyes as her top teeth sink into her bottom lip.

“Oh god…” Leah exhales not even a moment later.

“Now, who’s the one that doesn’t know how to be discrete?” Fatin responds, peppering Leah’s jawline with a series of quick but comforting kisses. 

“Shut up.” 

Fatin lets out a light, playful laugh against the crook of Leah’s neck in response as her fingers pick up speed. “Relax, baby. Just let me take care of you.” 

And all Leah can do is nod as her body willingly gives itself over to the touch of the woman she loves more than life itself. 

**____________________**

“Damn it!” Rachel shouts. The body wash slips for the fifth time out of her hand and slides around on the wet tiles beneath her feet. She goes to reach for it, haphazardly misjudging the unfamiliar surroundings of Dot’s shower. Before she can fully comprehend what is transpiring, her feet fly out from underneath her, and she nosedives straight into the tile wall. 

BAM.

Unable to entirely stop herself in time with her one remaining hand, Rachel hits the cold, harsh tile dead on with a mind-numbing thud. She lands on the floor, rolls to her side, and then lets out a short primal growl matched with a fist pound against the tub.

Shit.

She should’ve known better…

It’s three years and change since that infamous day when she up and randomly lost her hand to the jaws of a rogue great white shark. Three years and yet… 

There are still some everyday, basic shit tasks that give her nothing but problems.

She should’ve never taken Dot up on the offer in the first place. But a shower-- a hot shower-- after that long-ass trip down the coastline in the back of a Greyhound bus was just too damn appealing to pass up.

“Rachel?” Shelby’s voice filters into the bathroom. “Are you doing all right in there? Do you need a ha…”

Rachel shakes her head as she can literally hear Shelby’s cringe of regret through the door. 

“Yeah…” Rachel pushes herself back up and shuts off the water. “All good.” 

“You sure? Cause if not, I can go get Dottie and--”

“No!” Rachel cuts Shelby off. “I swear. I’m good.” 

“All right… Just make sure to give us a holler if you need anything… Any little thing at all.”

“Yeah. Got it… Thanks.” The thanks falls flat, and Rachel knows it. She pauses for a moment, waiting for the inevitable follow-up “are positive you’re okay” interruption, but it doesn’t come. 

Surprising. 

Maybe the ex-pageant turned walkin’ talkin’ pride parade princess has learned to read the room after all…

Rachel steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around her body. As she does, she catches sight of the gnarly-ass eight-inch scar that snakes from the top of her left thigh all the way down to just below her knee cap— another souvenir from their stint in that tropical hellhole. 

Rachel lets her fingers tips briefly graze over the scar. Only for a moment. That’s all she can mentally handle. Any longer and…

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

“Shit,” Rachel jumps. 

“Uh… Rachel?” Dot’s monotone voice calls out through the other side of the bathroom door. “You still in there?”

“Yeah…” Rachel replies, re-adjusting her towel to hide her scar. “What’s up?”

“Nothing… Shelby just uh… Ask me to check in on you?” Rachel lets out a short laugh of disbelief at the way Dot’s voice goes up at the sentence. 

Some shit never changes… 

“I’m all good, man.” 

**______________**

#7B.

Fucking apartment #7B.

Of course, Dorothy still lives in the same apartment… The one in walking distance to Abbott Kinney and the Venice boardwalk… And the extra-large closets with built-in shelves… And the semi-secluded balcony where they spent endless nights lost in conversation… 

The apartment that Fatin had fallen head over heels in love with three years prior when she and Dorothy first arrived in Los Angeles wide-eyed and ready to start a brand new chapter in their lives.

“Babe?” Leah asks with a hesitancy buried deep within her crystal blue eyes that shakes Fatin to the core. “Shouldn’t we… Um… Knock?” 

Fatin attempts to flash Leah a semi-forced smile as if to say there’s nothing to worry about… But it doesn’t work. 

Of course, it doesn’t. It never does with Leah. 

And that’s the beauty of their relationship. 

Unlike the rest of the world, Fatin can never fool Leah. No matter how much of a performance she puts on. Leah always sees straight through it. 

Without another word exchanged, Leah gently takes hold of Fatin’s hand, intertwining their fingers together like two interlocking puzzle pieces, and then gives Fatin’s hand a quick but reassuring squeeze. It’s a tiny gesture. One that most would even classify as throw away. Something significant others do all the time. 

But, to Fatin, in this very moment, it means the world.

Then Leah goes to knock on the door but before her hand can even make contact--

“I knew heard you two! Get y’alls asses on in here,” Shelby exclaims as she rips open the door with an overwhelming burst of pure joy. 

“Hey, girl!” Fatin flips her internal switch, and in an instant, her walls go up. She drops Leah’s hand and plasters on an impenetrable smile.

The next few minutes are nothing but a blur of rotating hugs and heart-felt greetings as Fatin finds herself thrown back into the deep end of the emotional melee that is the unsinkable seven. 

And all the while, Fatin’s eyes tract Dorothy. Not full-on. No. That would be too stalkerish. But more like indirectly. She keeps tabs on Dorothy, watching her in her peripheral vision as she pretends to follow along in the conversation between Shelby, Rachel, and Leah as they rapid-fire catch up with one another. 

Dorothy keeps her distance. It’s not 100% obvious since she’s keeping herself busy between hauling in their luggage and then offering to make everyone cocktails, but Fatin spots it right away. The distance is there… 

And it’s all her fault. 

There had been a time, during those first blissful post-island months, when the distance between her and Dorothy had been virtually non-existent. There was no time for it even to begin to manifest. Their lives were simply too busy with the return to civilization… And then the enviable media tour… And the move to Los Angeles. 

But eventually, life slowed down, and Fatin found herself with nothing but endless amounts of time on her hands. Thanks to the settlement, there wasn’t a real need to work, and hitting the clubs didn’t quite do it for her anymore. 

Fatin hated to admit it, but her time on that island had fundamentally changed her… And that cold hard truth, at the time, scared the living shit out of her.

She had considered for a hot second talking to Dorothy about it but couldn’t bring herself to break their number one unspoken relationship rule… No heavy shit. Emotions between the two of them were always served up in a wrapper of sarcasm and jokes. So as never to be too real. 

That’s how they operated, and for the most part, it worked… Until one day, it didn’t.

The late-night text to Leah had been on a whim. Chalk it up to a bottle of wine and a chronic case of insomnia. Fatin wasn’t sure the girl would even reply. But then she did… And it was within seconds too. 

Texts quickly turned into daily phone calls, and before Fatin knew it, she found herself falling head over heels in love with the girl that, in all intent and purposes, had been her lifeline during her darkest moments in hell. 

And, funny enough, Leah became that lifeline once again. 

It was through their late-night chats that Fatin rediscovered her passion for music and the cello. She started off slow, playing only whenever Leah would twist her arm about it. But soon, it snowballed into hours of non-stop practice, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, Fatin seemed to find herself again.

So it wasn’t a total surprise when a few months later, Fatin decided to up and apply to Julliard. Yes, it was on the literal other side of the country, and it would mean abandoning Dorothy, but she couldn’t deny that it felt like the right move. 

Plus, there was the Leah factor. Going to Jullaird meant that Fatin would be only a twenty-minute subway ride away from Leah’s dorm room at NYU. 

Her choice had already been made, whether Fatin realized it or not, long before she ever hit submit on her application. And in retrospect, it had been the best fucking decision she ever had made in her life… Except for the one major misstep in not being 100% transparent with Dorothy.

She should’ve said something… Anything really. But the fear of even attempting to broach the subject with Dorothy was just too much to deal with.

So instead, Fatin went right on pretending everything was fine until literally two days before she was set to move across the country. That’s when she dropped the bomb. And to add salt to the wound, Fatin did it in passing as she was coming back from a cello practice, and Dorothy was on her way out to work. 

There wasn’t a reaction… At least not one that Fatin had witnessed. Dorothy just gave a nod and then asked if Fatin needed any help with packing up her shit. 

And that was it. 

No further conversations. Just a quick “good luck” and hug goodbye two days later, and then Dorothy dropped out of Fatin’s life. 

Sure, there were still the random updates via the group texts or the occasional tidbits passed along in conversation with the others, but never anything directly between the two of them again.

Fatin had managed to ruin their relationship all because she was scared shitless to open up and let Dorothy see the mess behind her flawless mask. 

“Please tell me those aren't the same exact cargo shorts I bought you from that thrift store on Melrose three years ago,” Fatin says as she slips into the kitchen. 

Dot stops slicing a lime and glances down at her shorts. “Yeah… They are. Why?”

“For starters, there’s a huge ass stain on them…” 

“Where?” 

“There. On your left ass cheek.”

“Where?” Dot haphazardly spins around in an attempt to spot the stain herself, and Fatin can’t help but laugh. “I don’t see it.”

“Dorothy Campbell, you know it’s humanly impossible to check out your own ass… Trust me, I tried.” 

“I’m not checking out my own ass.” Dot stops spinning and lets out a frustrated huff of air. 

“You sure? Cause from here it looked like--”

“What are y’all doing in here?” Shelby asks as she rounds the corner and enters the kitchen. 

“And why the hell are you talkin’ about asses?” Rachel follows up, emerging in the doorway with Leah right behind her. They each position themselves in open spots around the kitchen, organically creating a semi-circle around Dot and Fatin. 

“We weren’t talking about asses,” Dot replies as she passes around her homemade cocktails to the group.

“What’s in this?” Rachel asks. She eyeballs the neon pink drink, unable to hide her apparent skepticism.

“Alcohol,” Dot deadpans back.

“No shit.” 

“It’s called a Pink Cadillac. It’s Dottie specialty,” Shelby responds in between sips of her drink. 

“Bet this one is a real panty-dropper with the ladies,” Fatin chimes in, stirring her drink with her finger before taking a sip.

“Still 100% straight,” Dot responds with a bit of a bite to her voice.

“And yet your shorts scream else wise.”

“Have you ever tried to bartend without pockets?”

“I dunno… This is a pretty gay ass drink,” Rachel pipes up.

“It’s delicious, Dot,” Leah says. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” Dot downs half of her own drink in one swift gulp and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “So… Are we gonna get into it or what?”

“I thought we were going to wait for Nora?” Shelby asks, shooting a quick look of confusion towards Rachel. 

“I’ll text her. She told me to give her a heads up when Fatin and Leah got here,” Rachel responds. She puts down her drink and whips out her phone from the pocket of her hoodie. 

“She isn’t coming?” Leah asks.

“Nope,” Rachel responds while furiously texting away. “She’s wrapped up with this bitch of a research project right now in Panama. But she’s been helping us to track down Toni’s whereabouts.” 

“And she’s sure that Toni was last seen in  Mancora, Peru?”

Rachel shrugs. “Dunno. That’s what she said when I last talked to her.” 

“I don’t get it… Why the hell would she ever go back down there in the first place? Toni hates to travel.” Dot questions the group, only to be met with similar looks of bewilderment. 

“You sure she didn't say anything to either of y’all about maybe taking a trip?” Shelby asks Leah and Fatin. 

“No… Not since winter break. Right, Babe?” Leah turns towards Fatin expecting an immediate response, and instead, Fatin remains silent, suddenly preoccupied with her drink. “Fatin?” 

Fuck. 

Fatin doubles down, throwing her full concentration in on her drink within her hands, seemingly ignoring everything else going on around her. She knows that if she looks up-- even for a millisecond-- those ocean blue eyes will instantly spot the truth.

Fatin knows more than she’s letting on. Not much… Only that Toni called her up randomly one night and asked to borrow $2k with no further information nor explanations offered up. Just a simple ask not to say a word to anyone… Not even Leah. 

And Fatin willingly agreed at the time because that’s the pact they made with one another. To be there… regardless of the ask nor situation. 

But now… Now Fatin wishes she would’ve at least asked what the money was for… Or even mentioned the call to Leah. 

“Shit,” Rachel exclaims, grabbing hold of everyone’s attention. She flips her phone outwards, giving everyone a good view of the screen. “Nora just sent this through. Looks like she was able to hack into one of the camera feeds from the island.” 

And before Fatin can fully take in the semi-blurred image on the screen, Rachel hits the play button.

It’s Toni. 

She sprints towards the camera, disoriented and slightly out of breath, battling her way through the dense jungle brush. She pauses for a moment, only a mere foot or two away, and then--

“Marty! Marty, where are you!” Toni's voice slices through the steady sounds of the island with a strong undercurrent of desperation. She freezes, listening in for any sort of response, but there’s nothing...

Nothing at all.

“Fuck!” Toni does a quick 360 of her surroundings and then takes off running again. 

The video cuts to black, and a collective invisible dread circles the room as they all exchange looks of confusion mixed with the impending fear looming on the horizon. 

“Shit,” Dot says with a strong exhale of air. “Is Martha still alive?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took WAY longer than expected thanks to a few pressing work deadlines. Hope it is worth the wait!
> 
> Enjoy!


	4. Preparations (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For the last fucking time. We’re not buying air mattresses,” Dot shouts in the middle of REI, warranting a half dozen odd looks from nearby shoppers. 
> 
> “Why not? The one over there is small as fuck. It can fit in a backpack and comes with a built-in sleeping bag,” Rachel responds with a shrug. “You remember how fucking hard that ground is? My ass sure as hell ain’t sleeping on a bunch of rocks again.”
> 
> Dot lets out a semi-primal yell of frustration. “I said no.”  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> The group gears up to venture back into the unknown.

“6:15 am at LAX… Got it. We’ll be there. Thanks.” Fatin hangs up the phone and then plops herself down on the sofa next to Leah with an over-dramatic thud. “Private jet booked… You’re welcome bitches.” 

“For what? We told you we didn’t need that fancy-ass shit,” Rachel responds in between bites of pizza.

“Do you know how many direct flights per week go from LAX to Jorge Chavez International? One. And it took off at 7 am yesterday morning.” 

“We could’ve done a connector.”

“And risk losing our gear? Yeah… Not happening,” Dot chimes in. She carries the last remaining pizza box into the living room and drops it down on the coffee table. “Two slices left. Shelby, you want one?” 

All eyes fall upon the blonde, who has barely uttered two words, let alone moved from the confines of the overstuffed ottoman for the last hour or so… Ever since Nora had face-timed them to confirm that it was indeed Toni in the video clip that she had obtained from the camera feeds. 

“Shelby…” Dot says again with a bit more force, and an instantaneous set of chills runs down the length of Fatin’s spine. 

That tone of voice… 

The one that Dorothy would reserve to use only when shit got too real back on the island.

That tone means that Dorothy is genuinely worried… And rightly so.

Toni is somehow trapped once again in their own personal Bermuda Triangle, and they are all facing down the harsh realization that less than 24 hours from now, they will be back there too.

Fatin pries herself up off of the couch and, without saying a single word, reaches into the pizza box, grabs a slice, and brings it over to Shelby. 

“Hey,” Fatin says playfully, nudging Shelby’s knee. “You really should eat something. We’ve got a long-ass night ahead of us, and hangry bitch isn’t a good look on any of us.” 

The comment does the trick. Shelby takes the piece of pizza from Fatin and gives her the slightest hint of a smile. “Thanks.”

Fatin nods and then returns to her spot next to Leah. 

It isn’t much. 

Not by a long shot.

But it’s the least Fatin can do at the moment to keep her gnawing guilt at bay. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Rachel asks eyes solely on Dot. “We all gonna go hit up Target and shit?”

“No… Not Target. They don’t have half the crap we’re gonna need. We’re gonna need to go to REI and then maybe Costco if we have the time. It’s 6 pm now. Which gives us roughly two hours before REI closes,” Dot responds.

“How about we divide and conquer? Fatin and I rented an Escalade. So if you give us a list, then we can go to Costco while you guys go to REI,” Leah offers up. 

“Not a bad idea,” Rachel says as she digs into the pizza box and steals the last slice.

“Right, except you need a membership card to shop there…” Dot responds. 

“You’re forgetting I’ve got a card as well, Dottie,” Shelby pipes up. “You made me get one of my own last year after I up and lost yours when gettin’ supplies for the annual youth picnic. Remember?”

“Shelby can go with Leah and Fatin to Costco while we’re at REI. No need to sweat the clock,” Rachel replies. “Problem solved.”

“Fine… But no buying extra crap that’s not on my list. Got it? I’m not hauling a bunch of Red Vines and Takis all the way to Peru.” Dot folds her arms across her chest, further punctuating her words.

“Red Vines are shit, man… But I wouldn’t mind us gettin’ some Twizzlers or--” 

“No crap,” Dot cuts Rachel off with her trademark scowl. 

“Takis are a must,” Leah says, warranting a quick look of confusion from Fatin. “What?” 

“I’ve never seen you eat Takis,” Fatin replies.

“No, I didn’t mean for us to eat… More like a good luck charm or something… I don’t know… I just thought…” Leah trails off. She starts to wind a loose thread from the hem of her t-shirt around her finger, and without missing a beat, Fatin’s hand is there to stop her. 

A sudden and sobering silence falls upon the group causing Fatin’s skin to crawl with the reality of their impending situation. 

She needs to tell them. And soon. Well before their asses board that jet and they fly off into the depth of hell once again.

There can’t be anything lingering between them… Especially not her and Leah. 

Fatin more than knows what cruel tricks that island and its unpredictable elements can play on even the strongest of minds. 

They all need to be one united front. No matter what.

“You know what I still can’t figure out,” Rachel says, breaking the silence. “Where the hell did Toni get that kinda cash for a ticket to Peru? Flying economy on even the shittest of airlines is like what? A thousand?” 

“$800 if she opted for a one-way ticket,” Dot replies.

“Right. So, where’d she get the cash from? She’d never admit it, but money’s tight for her. Last we talked, she was pulling a shit ton of doubles at that coffeeshop just to make ends meet.” 

“Ends meet? What about her portion of the settlement? We all got more than enough to live off and then some,” Shelby asks and is met by a definitive head shake from Rachel.

“She gave it all away.”

“Really?”

Rachel nods. “Every last dime. Tried to talk her outta it, but she was dead set on giving it all to a bunch of organizations that help out foster kids.”

God, does Fatin remember that conversation. It had happened two days after they had each been awarded roughly 1.2 million. It had been a closed-door settlement, strictly between the lawyers with little to no input from any of them. Just a few quick meetings, and after a mountain of paperwork, including one hell of a non-disclosure that they had all but been forced to sign, they each were written a check. 

1.2 million dollars. 

That was the total worth that was put on the broken wreckage of their lives. 

At the time, Fatin had been furious. They deserved more. So much more for all that they were forced to endure both on that island and the proceeding weeks they were held captive within the bunker.

But Fatin’s anger paled in comparison to Toni’s blind rage. It hadn’t been quite so apparent at first. Toni had remained relatively quiet on their Group FaceTime, opting not to offer up what she was planning to spend her portion of the settlement on when asked. 

It wasn’t long, though, before Fatin received an SOS call from Rachel, begging her to talk some sense into Toni. That the girl was dead set on giving away every last cent of the settlement money… Even if it meant that she would continue on struggling to make ends meet. 

And Fatin had tried. Multiple times. Coming at it from all angles, including even pulling the “what would Martha have wanted her to do” card. But there was no talking Toni down. Her mind was simply made up. 

So instead, Fatin made Toni a promise that she could come to her and ask for money whenever she needed it. No strings attached nor explanations required. It was a pseudo blank check for Toni to cash whenever the time was right. 

Part of Fatin hadn’t expected Toni to ever actually cash in on it. Toni was too proud… and too stubborn. 

But then, out of nowhere, the call came, and Fatin didn’t think twice about it. Not until weeks later when Rachel reached out with the news that Toni had gone missing. 

“I gave her the money,” Fatin says bluntly, ripping the bandaid off in one fell swoop. 

“What?” Leah asks, and Fatin feels Leah’s hand instantly slip out from underneath her own. “When?”

“A few weeks ago. She called me up late one night and asked to borrow some money, so I venmo’ed her a few thousand. I thought it was for rent or something.” 

“And you didn’t think about mentioning that to any of us?” Rachel questions, staring Fatin down with the mother of all eyebrow quirks. 

“Yeah… I know. My bad. But in my defense, I didn’t think it was a critical piece of info to share.” Fatin sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. There’s no graceful way of recovering from this. 

“Critical?! I flat out asked you if you had heard from her and your sorry ass answered no.” 

Sensing the shift in the room, Dot quickly rises to her feet and strategically plants herself between Rachel and Fatin. “Okay. So one mystery solved. Toni got the money from Fatin. Now we can either stay here and bicker about the fact that Fatin failed to tell us about it until right now, or we can get our asses in gear and go get supplies. Anyone opposed?” Dot interjects and is met with total silence. “Good. Reid, get your shit together. We’re rolling out in ten.” 

With that, Fatin watches as everyone starts to collect themselves but doesn’t dare to make a move herself. Her eyes remained fixated on her in on her nails, unable to bring herself to glance over at Leah. 

“I think you should go with Dot and Rachel.” Leah’s words, although quiet, hit Fatin hard and heavy. She doesn’t need to ask why. Fatin already knows what the simple suggestion means… And she finds herself swallowing back a lump of raw emotions that’s been residing within her throat for the last few minutes. 

“Sure,” Fatin manages to reply with a slight nod, still avoiding any and all contact with those crystal blue eyes. 

She’s fucked things up once again… 

**____________________**

“For the last fucking time. We’re not buying air mattresses,” Dot shouts in the middle of REI, warranting a half dozen odd looks from nearby shoppers. 

“Why not? The one over there is small as fuck. It can fit in a backpack and comes with a built-in sleeping bag,” Rachel responds with a shrug. “You remember how fucking hard that ground is? My ass sure as hell ain’t sleeping on a bunch of rocks again.”

Dot lets out a semi-primal yell of frustration. “I said no.”

“Who died and put you in charge? Huh? If I wanna buy a fucking air mattress, then I’m gonna buy it.”

“Fine,” Dot snaps back. “But don’t come bitching to me when it pops!”

Rachel responds with a poignant middle finger before storming off down a nearby aisle and disappearing out of sight.

Dot lets out a sigh and then turns her attention toward Fatin, who’s taken up residency in a camping fold-out chair in a store display. 

“Are you gonna help, or are you just gonna sit there?” Dot asks, knowing full well what the answer will be before the words even leave her lips. 

“You sure you want my help, Dorothy? Cause from here, it looks like you’re doing a real bang-up job on your own,” Fatin says, not even bothering once to look up from her phone. 

It’s a defense mechanism. Plain and simple. 

One that Dot remembers all too well. 

After the awkward, last-minute change in plans, Fatin had begrudgingly climbed into the backseat of Dot’s Jeep Gladiator and proceeded to ignore both Dot and Rachel for the bulk of the drive to REI, only choosing to speak up when she was virtually forced to. 

Dot wouldn’t have minded the silent treatment so much if it weren’t for Rachel’s pissed-off mood -- thanks in part to Fatin-- making even the most basic of interactions beyond hostile. So much so that she had managed to get her head bitten off no less than six times in the ten-minute drive from her apartment to REI. 

“Yes.” Dot then folds her arms and plants herself directly in front of Fatin, making it virtually impossible for the girl not to look up at her. 

A moment passes… 

Then another…

And yet another… 

Until finally… 

“Ugh… Fine,” Fatin huffs out. She stashes her phone away in her back pocket and then slowly rises from the fold-out chair. “So what, pray tell, is so difficult, Dorothy, that you can’t do it on your own? We are literally in your equivalent of Disneyland.” 

Dot doesn’t take the bait. She knows that Fatin is intentionally pushing her buttons with the goal of getting a rise out of her. Fatin wants a fight. Not for any particular reason other than needing a distraction from the fallout that transpired back at the apartment. 

Instead, Dot leads Fatin across the store towards the back corner where the travel toiletries are located. She quickly scans the shelves, ignoring the irritated stare that Fatin is giving her, and locates the exact one luxury item that she is willing to afford space for. 

“Bingo,” Dot says. She snatches a travel electric toothbrush off of the shelf and then tosses it at Fatin. Fatin catches it as her look of annoyance melts into a small but genuine smile.

“I thought you said essentials only…” Fatin asks, and Dot meets her eyes with a bit of a smirk. 

“Yeah, but we’re also gonna need every last god damn good luck charm we can get our hands-on. Figured this one could be yours.” Fatin’s smile widens, and she gives Dot a poignant but straightforward nod as if to say thanks. 

“Good,” Dot replies as she fights the urge to say more. 

God, there’s so much more she wants to say… So many, many things that have gone left unsaid between them for far too long.

But it isn’t the time nor the place for it. At least not now.

“Let’s go find Reid before she decides to buy a shit ton of useless crap that we won’t be able to take with us.” 

With that, Dot starts to walk again, but this time, Fatin is right by her side, just like the way it used to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than expected to get out. A bit of a fluff chapter but needed in order to set-up what's to come next. Enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Have been playing around with the concept of this fic ever since I finished binging Season 1 and finally decided to pull the trigger and write it. 
> 
> The prologue is merely a brief teaser for what's to come...
> 
> Enjoy!


End file.
